Blink And You'll Miss Him
by Basmathgirl
Summary: What if there was more than one duplicate? And what if "Blink" occurred after the events of Journeys End? Using a bit of timey wimey faffing about, the Doctor has a problem to solve that his future self created. Crossover rated M mainly for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Characters:** Ten, Donna, Martha, TenIII(I'll reveal his name later)

**Warning:** this contains swearing; quite a bit considering... or maybe not.

**Summary:** What if there was more than one duplicate, and what if "Blink" occurred after the events of Journeys End? Using a bit of timey wimey faffing about, the Doctor has a problem to solve that his future self created.

**Disclaimer:** I once owned an old fashioned tape recorder, but that's about it where ownership is concerned.

**A/N:** I tried to write another fic entirely but this one was extremely insistent!

* * *

**Blink And You'll Miss Him**

**Part 1**

.

The words of the name Wester Drumlins stood tall and ominously amid the railings around the dilapidated house. It was strange to see such a once impressive house stand so empty and forgotten; especially in this part of London. It was as if it had a perception filter on it.

The Doctor and his companion, trainee doctor Martha Jones, had been sent there to investigate the disappearance of a woman who seemed to have reappeared in the past, according to documents that had been delivered. It was most puzzling.

Despite it being a reasonably sunny day the atmosphere around the house was chilly, giving it an unwelcome feel.

Martha spotted a man slumped by the fence near the gates, almost hidden by the undergrowth. He wore black clothes and had almost black hair. Everything about his demeanour cried out his sadness. Without consulting the Doctor, she strode over with the intention of speaking to this man and seeing if he needed assistance.

"Excuse me, but are you okay?" she gently asked.

"No I'm fucking not," the man answered brokenly; and then lifted his head. He had haunted dark brown eyes that stared at her from a familiar pinched pale face.

She gasped in shock. "Doctor! I think you need to see this!" she called out, and then returned her attention to the man before her. "Are you… Do you know me?"

He gazed at her intently. "Can't say I do. Why? Am I supposed to know who you are? I haven't been in this country for quite some time so it's possible that I missed you becoming famous."

"What, Martha? What do you want?" the Doctor demanded to know as he made his way over to join them. "Oh, hello! I'm the Doctor," he began to introduce himself to the sitting man. "And this is…" The words stuttered to a halt as he contemplated his doppelgänger. "…not what I expected at all. Do I know you?"

Anger flitted across the man's face. "Not another fucking guessing game! Look, thanks for the concern but I came here looking for my mother, not to sort out your memory."

"Ooh, a little bit angry, aren't we?" the Doctor chided him. "So you're looking for your mother. What's her name?"

"Not that it is any of your business, but her name is Donna. Donna Vincent," the man replied.

"Sorry; never heard of her," the Doctor answered after thinking on the name for some moments. "Why are you looking for her in this specific location?"

To his surprise the man considered his watch and then said, "She will turn up at this place in about twenty minutes and I want to be here."

Now this was too much of a coincidence considering they were there investigating this place and were willing to stop anyone else from showing up there. "And that would be bad because…? I'm getting the impression you don't want her to turn up."

The man chuckled wryly. "Too fucking right I don't! I'm trying to stop her making the biggest mistake of her life thanks to those bloody angels," he said bitterly as he vaguely pointed at the garden.

"Angels?" the Doctor queried as his eyes darted about the garden in front of them through the railings. "What did they do to her?"

The man sighed in exasperation. "What didn't they do to her? They sucked the life out of her when they threw her back in time. It's okay, I know you don't believe me; nobody ever does. But I saw what they did, ruining our lives; the bastards!" When he noticed Martha glaring at him for his language, he added, "Please excuse my French, but they are the lowest of the low. Outer space scum."

"How did they ruin your life?" Martha encouraged him to talk. This could help them solve this case quickly and get her away from this creepy place.

"Where do I start?" the man demanded. "They caused me to exist, like the immaculate conception, in a time when I could have stayed hidden and saved her from…" He then tried to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes. "She didn't deserve that. So it's been nice to sit here and chat with you both but I have a job to do. If you'll excuse me."

He gracefully stood then and went to walk away, but the Doctor stopped him by grabbing his arm. "Before you go, you didn't tell us your name or how we can help you."

The man glared at the Doctor's hand resting possessively on him, and relented slightly. "I'm Peter Vincent, for what it's worth. And… oh shit! There she is!" Peter then ran as the figure of a woman could be seen to walk around the corner of the house, staying only momentarily in view.

"It can't be," the Doctor whispered as Peter reached the gates, cried out in anguish and sank to his knees onto the floor.

"NO! Oh God, no!" Peter yelled.

Martha raced up to him. "What happened?"

"I was too late," he sobbed. "She's gone! They've sent her to about 1970 again."

"Doctor, what does this mean? And why are you in shock?" Martha called out in wonder when the Doctor didn't move from his spot.

"I've just seen Donna Noble; and if Peter is her son that means… I might be his father," he reasoned out.

"What?!" Peter sat stunned on the ground. "How can you be…? Fucking hell! Oh fucking hell! This cannot be happening to me," he groaned, holding his head in his hands. "Mum! I'm so sorry, Mum!"

"Pardon?!" the Doctor responded without thinking. "Peter, I can help you fix whatever it is that needs fixing, but you're going to have to trust me and tell me everything that happened."

"How are you going to do that? Got a fancy time machine or something," Peter scathingly commented. "Going to take us back and snatch her? Yeah, I'd like to see that happen."

Like mother like son, the Doctor couldn't help noticing. "Actually, the answer is 'yes' to all that. Come with us and we can talk." He knew that there were a lot of questions to be answered.

* * *

It wasn't too bad a day as Donna walked along with her pile of envelopes. As she went she placed an envelope addressed to the occupier through each letter box, leaving it for them to fill in and return to the Register of Electors at a later date. As she stood in front of a large house with dilapidated wrought iron gates she knew someone would be along later to find out why no one had returned the form. The place looked entirely abandoned. Hopefully that person wouldn't be her as the place gave her the creeps.

As she made her way down the path movement in the garden briefly caught her attention (probably a bird she told herself), and when she looked back towards the house a statue of an angel was suddenly there. Funny; she didn't remember it sitting there when she opened the gate.

As she looked down at the papers in her hands to extract one single envelope something touched her, causing her to cry out in shock; and then for a few seconds there was nothing… Absolutely nothing.

Her next impression of her surroundings was cold, wet and very dark. She was standing next to a high brick wall in a Victorian residential street. Had she passed out? And where the hell was she?! Panic set in as her surroundings seem to impinge on her senses. Was this drug related? Had her morning orange juice been spiked?

"Donna!" someone shouted out to her; causing her to swing round violently and touch the wall for comfort. Running towards her was a man, closely followed by a young woman. He sounded rather desperate as he called out her name.

He stopped running when he was only a few paces away, breathing as though running had taken no toll on him at all. It wasn't the same case for the woman. He was holding a weird old fashioned tape recorder, like the one her dad had once owned. There was something oddly familiar about this bloke, as if she had seen him before.

"Did you want me?" she asked him, and then began to look around for the cameras. This had to be a television prank, didn't it? Any moment now Ant and Dec will step out and tell her one of her friends had written in, asking them to stage a joke.

"Thank goodness I found you," he said. "I'm…"

"You're John Smith. Yes, I know who you are," Donna interrupted him, to his surprise. "We met the night I got home after my accident."

"Accident?" he queried.

"The one where I ended up losing stuff," she said, waving vaguely at her head. "Years of it. Or didn't Gramps explain all that to you? I suppose you wouldn't even think to discuss that when you meet up at your club."

"My club," he repeated in confusion. She clearly had met him and not Martha, but he hadn't lived through that particular encounter yet. "Yes, that would be it. I hardly get told anything about you. Anyway, Mar- my friend Ann here and I were concerned about you."

"Who?" Martha wondered, until she realised he was referring to her. This was turning into something that was going over her head again.

The Doctor ignored her question and kept his attention on Donna. "Do you know how you got here?"

"What, this place?" Donna asked, sweeping her gaze over her surroundings once again. "No, no idea. I was delivering Register of Elector forms when something happened, I dunno what, I blacked out and I came to here. Where is here exactly?"

Something flashed on his tape recorder. "Ann is a doctor. She'll check you over to see if you are okay and then you can come back with us for a while," he told her as he waved a device close to her head. "I don't know how to tell you this but you've been thrown back in time by a creature that looks like a stone angel. Welcome to late August 1969."

Martha was at this point testing Donna's reflexes, so she couldn't protest as much as she normally would have. She still felt a little dazed. "You what?! You have got to be kidding me!"

"It's true," Martha confirmed with deep sigh of exasperation. "You would not believe the dreadful time I have been having working in a shop."

Donna winced in sympathy. "That's never an easy one," she agreed. "So where are we? This doesn't look like Richmond."

"No, this is another part of London. We're just off Brick Lane," Martha supplied.

"Where?! Oh, that's real classy," Donna groaned sarcastically.

"It's a place we can be accepted," the Doctor said. "Let's get you into the warm and supply you with a nice cup of tea."

"Tea sounds nice," Donna agreed, and tried out a smile on him. He seemed to be trying really hard to calm her down for some reason.

"She's still a bit groggy, D- John," Martha cautioned him, just as Donna tripped up on a paving slab.

He leapt forward and took hold of her arm. "You'll soon be as right as rain," he told her comfortingly, and wrapped her arm around his to guide her footsteps.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I have been down Brick Lane and have often been passed the Royal London Hospital, but I can't say I have ever taken much notice of the shops around there.

* * *

**Part 2**

.

Three minutes later Donna found herself being taken into a very modest two bedroomed flat on the top floor of a house. To her amusement, the Doctor kept hold of her arm as he introduced her to all the rooms. Someone had been very busy trying to keep the place looking clean and tidy. The meagre furnishings had been polished and arranged for their optimum usability. "And these are the bedrooms," he ended the tour by telling her. "This is Ann's room, and this is mine, where you will be sleeping."

"Pardon?!" she demanded in shock.

The Doctor blushed. "I didn't mean like that. I'm letting you sleep in here while I sleep on the sofa," he explained.

"Oh no! I can't let you do that!" she insisted. "It would be rude to turf you out of your bed."

"A gentleman does not let a lady sleep on anything except a bed," he replied firmly.

It left no way for her to answer beyond a grateful, "Thank you, John." She even added in a kiss on his cheek which caused him to blush delightfully again; making her decide to try and elicit another such reaction when she could.

Martha sighed in frustration as she made the tea in what passed for a kitchen; although 'glorified cupboard' would have been a better description. What had gotten into the Doctor? They'd been waiting for weeks for Donna to appear, so it wasn't exactly an enormous surprise to see her arrive; although it had been weird to get to 1969 before her. And why had he allowed their names to change like that? The name 'Ann' would take some getting used to, as would calling the Doctor 'John'. He had gone off and had a quiet chat with Peter when they had still been in 2009, not telling Martha much about it beyond some bare basics. It was puzzling and very annoying at the same time. He did like his secrets though.

Donna allowed the Doctor to sit her down on one of the comfy chairs in front of the television. It was ancient looking, surrounded by wood with dials instead of buttons, and the programme it was showing was in black and white. She remembered seeing this episode when it was recently repeated on BBC 3 as part of some documentary.

Gratefully accepting a cup of tea from Martha, she heard all about living in 1969 and their temporary co-habiting arrangements. It all sounded a bit haphazard to her; so taking the bull by the horns, she suggested they drew up a rota for various domestic tasks with amendments to take place once they were each successfully gained paid employment.

Both the Doctor and Martha seemed pleased with this piece of organisation, and they quickly settled into a routine; one where Donna and Martha worked and the Doctor tackled a solution to getting back to their 'home time'. The rent got paid, there was food in the cupboards, they ate reasonably well, and there weren't many arguments. Despite the Doctor insisting politely otherwise, it was also decided to save up and buy another bed to put in Martha's room so that she could share with Donna and allow the Doctor to get back into a proper bed. Luckily it didn't take as long as they had expected to save for it once Donna found a little second hand shop she remembered existing near the Royal London Hospital.

* * *

Using a faked personal reference written by someone called Doctor McCrimmon working for UNIT, would you believe, Donna had managed to get some office work with an agency. It had been easy for her to prove her typing and shorthand skills. Within a short span she was able to build up an enviable reputation for being able to step in last minute with any placement.

Having stepped into one particular place, and solved their problem much quicker than had been anticipated, she inadvertently found herself with an afternoon free. Feeling like a kid let out of school early, she joyously made her way back home to the flat. As she rode on the bus she considered whether she should take over Ann's cooking stint that evening and give her a well-earned break.

Nothing seemed unusual at first. She breezed in quietly, so as not to disturb the Doctor as he slaved away at his latest project, having quickly learned that it did not pay to interrupt him when he was in his creative moment. Should she offer to make tea, or just go ahead and do it anyway, since he rarely declined a cup? He did look as though he needed something though, she thought as she silently considered him; and batted away her naughty answer.

He was working on one of his inventions again; no doubt part of Billy Shipton's media thing and all very hush hush. He was desperately hunched over the table and his nose too close for comfort against something that looked strangely like a Stanley knife gone wrong. Leaning back to rub at a sore spot just below his kidneys, he suddenly started when he caught sight of her. "Hello, Donna," he softly greeted her. "I didn't know you were home."

"Here, let me do that," she offered, moving forward to place her hands on his back. As she massaged his stiff muscles, she explained, "I finished loads earlier than they thought I would, so they let me come home." Blimey he was stressed! There were more knots in his muscles than a schoolboy's tie. With determination, she carried on rubbing her hands over his body. "We really ought to do this with you lying down. I've got some oil or even body lotion if you like."

"Oh, I'm not sure…," he started to say cagily.

"I promise not to take advantage," she teased. "Even though I evidently can't keep my hands off you."

That gained a smile as the Doctor relaxed a little bit more. "Okay. I'd love that if you still want to…" He waved vaguely over his shoulder.

"I wouldn't offer unless I was willing," she assured him, and patted his shoulder. "Come on then, get your kit off and lie down." When he shot her a surprised look, she added, "Just the top half will do. You'd have to get me really drunk for the rest of it."

She was teasing him again! Relief sighed through him. When would he ever learn that she didn't see him like that, like Martha did? Smiling, he stripped off his shirt while Donna went off to find some oil or lotion. Fortunately she was acting very efficiently, taking away any possible embarrassment in the situation.

Donna went into her bedroom, laid a towel on the bedspread, and signalled for him to lie down. She held in her surprise at how thin he looked beneath his shirt, mentally vowing to feed him up a bit more when it was her turn to cook. Hmm. Maybe moving his trousers out of the way would be a good idea? Leaning in, she whispered, "Do you want to avoid getting this stuff on your decent trousers? I could do your legs too, if you like."

'Why not?' he thought. So he unfastened his trousers and only then thought to ask for a suitable covering. Donna laughed and went to fetch another towel to hide his modesty. That was how he ended up lying flat on the bed, on his stomach, as Donna Noble worked her form of magic on his tired muscles.

Oh it was good! Her hands smoothed over his skin, wiping away his tension as she did so, lulling him. Although when she stood over him to press her hands into his shoulders and her bust almost smacked him in the face, his thoughts suddenly skyrocketed in an unwanted direction. His thoughts had been doing that a lot recently. Fortunately that didn't last too long, and he was almost completely relaxed by the time she was tending to his legs.

"John, do you mind me asking about you and Ann?" she said as she abruptly brought him out of his daze. "I seem to be playing gooseberry, and I'm truly sorry for doing that. But what I wanted to know was: why don't you share a room? You don't have to pretend anything for my sake."

He peered over his shoulder at her. "There is nothing going on between Ann and I, I assure you. We are merely friends."

Donna snorted her disagreement. "Has anyone told Ann that snippet of information? She clearly fancies you."

There was a nod of agreement. "That may be so, but that doesn't dismiss the fact that she and I are not in a romantic relationship." He then eyed her thoughtfully. "Do you think I act inappropriately towards her?"

"I think you act stupidly towards her, but that's a different matter. Ann is gorgeous and you act likes she's your little sister," she commented. "Turn over and I'll do your chest."

He considered this as he started to flip onto his back, and then halted dramatically. "I don't think that is a good idea, Donna," he said as he clung onto his towel.

"John," she sighed. "You're a bloke, and I accept that without complaint. Well, almost without complaint, so don't look at me like that. As I said earlier, I won't take advantage."

He blushed a bright red. "You don't mind? But I…"

"I had noticed," she said with a smirk. "Now lie back and think of England."

He lay back down and chuckled. "I want you to know that you are brilliant," he said, capturing her hand as it rested on his chest.

"That's what friends are for," she stated, gazing fondly down at him. "Even friends who have taken your hand hostage," she bent to say.

"This hand is mine!" he teased, squeezing it tightly, causing her to topple onto him.

"What's the ransom to get it back?" she asked, fighting off her need to laugh at his daftness.

"Hmm. What shall I demand? How does two of my goes at cleaning the bathroom sound?" he offered.

"Oh no! You could have done us all a favour and chosen two of your cooking sessions," she mocked him.

He gasped in pretend horror; he'd be only too willing to let her cook for him. "That is not very nice of you. I may have to punish such a comment, very harshly," he threatened, and grabbed her before she could stand up properly. With a swift action, she was spun onto the bed beside him and up against the wall, giggling like a loon. "Are you repentant yet?"

"No," she replied defiantly. "I regret nothing. You, on the other hand, ought to regret letting me entice you into my lair." She then did a pretend witchy cackle.

"It is you who will regret getting me in here," he said with a laugh. My, he missed doing this sort of thing for fun. This was the Donna he remembered from when they'd ridden on the Segways beneath the Thames; full of laughter and the joys of life. The whole of her seemed to light up for entirely the right reasons this time. In a moment of weakness, he murmured, "You are very beautiful."

She immediately sobered. "No I'm not, John," she whispered back. "I'm not even pretty."

"Who told you that nonsense?" he crooned sympathetically. "You are beautiful," he said, placing a brief kiss on her lips. "You are beautiful to me and everybody that looks at you," he insisted, kissing her briefly again. "And don't let anyone tell you otherwise." His hand was caressing her cheek and smoothing her hair out of the way. Out of the way to allow him to sweep in and touch those voluptuous lips. Everything about her was voluptuous; tempting him on.

He was looking at her so sincerely, so lovingly; how could she resist that? So when he rolled her onto her back, she let him steal more kisses. That was before she freely gave them, as his mouth moved delicately over hers. All the time his hands never strayed, keeping respectfully to her head, back and shoulders. His mouth, however, was doing criminal things to her sensitivities; driving her wild with desire by teasing her with his tongue, sucking and licking in turn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning:** this contains angst followed by a reference to domestic and child abuse.

**A/N:** You might have guessed the beginning.

* * *

**Part 3**

.

Martha opened the front door and wearily kicked off her shoes. Thank goodness she had been allowed to go home early! All she wanted to do was luxuriate in a hot bath for half an hour or so before tackling the evening meal. Padding quietly into the lounge she was surprised to see the dining table laden with the Doctor's gadgetry but no sign of him.

That was when the sounds of stuttered breathing hit her, and loud groans as someone grunted with the effort of doing whatever they were doing. Had Donna brought home a man to 'entertain' her? Martha wouldn't put it passed her, judging by some of the tales Donna told. By the sound of it she had forgotten to shut the bedroom door. It wouldn't do to let the Doctor hear her when he got back from wherever he had gone. He seemed to adore Donna for some reason. Not that she was jealous, not very much; but Martha wanted to protect him.

With that thought in mind she crept up to the bedroom door in order to shut it as quietly as possible. As she reached in to grab the handle her actions were stopped in their tracks by the sight before her.

How could he?! How could he act that way?!

Tearfully she clamped a hand over her mouth and turned tail, racing away before they noticed she was there. But the image of them undulating passionately together under the covers would not leave her mind as large, splotty tears dripped down her cheeks. Why was her life so awful? What had she done to deserve this torture? All she had done was love and support him in the time they had travelled together, and he rewarded her by carrying with Donna under her very nose.

The words _'I've just seen Donna Noble; and if Peter is her son that means… I might be his father' _flashed through her mind. Was the Doctor trying to self-fulfil some sort of prophecy? Surely he wouldn't be so callous? Peter had said he'd had an awful childhood, full of loneliness. With stubborn determination, she decided she would ask the Doctor what Peter Vincent had told him; and there was no way in hell that she was going to let him escape telling her.

"Ann? Is that you?" Donna suddenly called out; making Martha wipe desperately at her face as she tried to calm down.

"Yes, it's me," she shakily called back. She only just managed to stop herself asking what Donna was up to. As if she needed to ask! She knew all too well what the pair of them were doing, thank you very much. "Do you want tea?"

There was hesitant whispering. No doubt they were figuring out their cover story. In a fit of pique as she filled the kettle, Martha called out, "Have you seen John? Thought he would have been home."

"He's erm… he's around; probably hogging the bathroom again," Donna replied.

There was an instant, indignant but faint, "Oi!"

Martha wanted to laugh despite her anger. How long would it take him before he admitted what they'd been up to?

Donna appeared in the kitchen doorway, with her dressing gown wrapped tightly around her. "You look tired, Ann. Why don't you let me do that, and you go sit down for a while? I'll even do dinner if you like."

"That's okay, Donna. I'm almost done here. But you're right; I am tired. I could do with a long soak in the bath," Martha admitted, wondering if it was wrong to string this sympathy along when she needed it.

To her surprise, Donna stepped into the kitchen and shut the door to behind her. "That's settled then. We'll have this cup of tea, and then I'll do dinner while you have a well-deserved soak."

Before Martha could ask a suspicious question the kitchen door was opened by the Doctor, looking as fresh as a daisy. "Did I hear someone mention my name?" he asked. "Oh good! Tea! Are we having biscuits with it?"

"No!" Donna told him as she swatted at his hand. "We'll be having dinner soon, so no sneaking one when I'm not looking. I'm doing dinner and Ann is going to have a bath before you ask. Any special requests about what we're having to eat?"

"No, I'm free and easy," he replied, giving her a wink.

"You're a tart, you mean," she said fondly. "Now go and deal with your stuff on the table or it will all end up accidentally in the bin."

He threw her a mock hurt expression and sauntered off. Both of them stood watching him go, and then Martha returned to her task. "Donna, I think you should know…," she began to say, readying herself to tell Donna off. But Donna looked so contented and friendly as she stood in the kitchen that Martha didn't have the heart to burst her bubble. "…I'm grateful that you're doing this."

"Pft! It's nothing. You just go and take your tea and have that bath. It's not often I get to pamper you for a change." Donna then eyed her determinedly. "Go on… go! Stop wasting time before I steal all the hot water."

Martha dutifully did as she was told. Sterner words could wait until later.

* * *

In fact she didn't have to wait very long to say her words. Just as she had expected him to, the Doctor had sauntered into the living room so she started the bath running while she went to cross-examine him. "Well?" she demanded in low tones. "What exactly are you playing at, Doctor?!"

He seemed taken aback by her ire and obviously thought he could act perfectly innocently. "What? All I did was go into the kitchen to get a cup of tea," he replied brazenly.

"Don't give me that! I saw you in the bedroom when I came in; the pair of you. What the hell are you playing at behaving in _that_ way?" Martha hissed at him.

"Oh that! I erm…" He went bright pink to the tips of his ears, and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "I was merely complying with… erm… We don't want a paradox, do we?"

Martha scowled at him. "Are you saying you seduced Donna because you were supposed to? That is below you."

The Doctor gulped nervously. "I…"

"And to think I thought you actually liked and cared about Donna," she admonished him. "You'd better let her down gently."

He continued standing there looking like a goldfish for more than a few seconds. "I promise I will."

"I'll be watching you to make sure you do," she threatened him; and then she headed back to the bathroom.

* * *

All this was happening unbeknown to Donna, who had turned the radio on in the kitchen and was singing along to the latest tunes in the hit parade. Even chopping onions didn't quell her mood as she worked on the dish Ann had said was her favourite.

Things didn't look so rosy when she placed their meals on the dining table. There was a definite degree of frostiness between Ann and John as they started their meal; and there were lots of cautious glances in her direction. "How was work, Ann?" she tried opening a conversation with.

"Fine," Martha answered simply. "Tiring as usual."

"Did you get any further with your project, John?" she tried asking next. She didn't miss his brief glance towards Ann.

"No," he said impassively.

So Donna put down her cutlery and asked, "Have I killed somebody's kitten, or worse, in the last hour? Only I seem to have committed a terrible crime."

Both of them muttered denials in her direction, but the meal didn't become any more animated. Only vague pleasantries were passed for the rest of the evening, creating a strong sense of déjà vu in Donna. It was to be another evening wishing she still had a dog.

* * *

As the key turned in the lock and the door opened Donna felt a shiver of anxiety run through her. The flat felt cold and empty before she had even stepped inside. "John?" she called out. "John!" she cried more anxiously when there was no reply, and ran into the living room.

She held back a sob of distress when she realised that all of his gadgetry had disappeared from the table. His books had gone too. Did that mean…? She flew into the bedrooms and then the bathroom to check through their possessions. Only her stuff remained.

Slumping to the floor in grief she knew he had found a way to get home for him and Ann, leaving her behind. Nausea swelled up in her, and she was instantly sick into the toilet pan.

All she could think of was 'what would she do now?' They had been her life and now she had nothing. There were other people she could call acquaintances, but they weren't real friends; they didn't share the things she knew about. For several days she just cried and cried.

It had been the bloke who lived in the flat below who finally took pity on her. He had appeared at the front door to ask why she was continually crying, and could he help. Donna had never looked at him properly before; well, her attention had all been on John. In fact she'd been dazzled by him. But suddenly standing at her door was Raymond Frederick Vincent, who seemed to be a little more than interested in her; and to be honest it was lovely to have someone be so again.

The fling with John hadn't lasted long; she hadn't expected it to. All he'd done was apologise for leading her on, that things weren't that way, that he was duty-bound to look after Ann, and could they go back to being friends, please. It had been surprisingly easy to feign disinterest after that. Well, she'd had plenty of practise over the years.

So to have someone like Ray Vincent turn up on your doorstep, all tall, broad, muscularly and blonde with his intense blue eyes, would turn any woman's head; especially when he had shown such keen interest in her. Donna knew it had been a rebound relationship but she had let it happen nevertheless. She'd even let him propose when she found out she was pregnant, and had accepted. It hadn't been too bad at first.

It stopped being okay when Peter was born. Sweet, cherubic Peter. Her life had been complete when he was born; and her relatively good life ended. Why? Because it was as clear as day that Ray wasn't the father. Peter should have been born with light ginger hair and blue eyes, going by how she and Ray looked. But Peter had warm chocolate eyes and dark brown hair. Donna knew who that brought into the picture, but she always swore black to blue that Ray was his father, stating that her father had had that colouring. Both of them knew this was a lie. Only the dates fell in her favour for Ray to be the father.

There were continuous accusations of her cheating on him during their time together. Ray would lash out at the boy when Donna wasn't around; and sometimes when she was. There were numerous arguments because of his cruelty, but Donna would not back down and let him claim what he saw as his father's rights. In her eyes no child deserved to be beaten.

Every moment she spent alone with Peter she made as precious as she could, trying to make it up to him in some small way; but she felt that something deep, dark and horrible was on the horizon. What could she do? She had no family to run to, she had no money left and special hostels didn't exist yet to help battered wives. So she fought back in the ways she could until Peter was old enough for her to flee, taking any beating that she could on his behalf. 'As long as he is safe', she would tell herself in her lowest moments.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning:** this contains a reference to domestic violence; and a character death.

**A/N:** I almost forgot to post this. I do apologise!

* * *

**Part 4 **

.

"Why doesn't Dad like me?" young Peter asked Donna one day as they hid together from Ray. She would provide any activity that could allow them to escape in one form or another; whether it be the park, the cinema, the local library, or the theatre. They must have seen every pantomime in the London area at Christmas.

As soon as Peter asked his question she felt guilty that she hadn't told him the truth. So she had tried to cushion it by explaining, "It isn't a matter of not liking you. It's more that Ray wishes he was your real father." Seeing Peter's face fall in confusion, she had tenderly stroked his fringe out of his eyes and said, "Somewhere out there your real dad is waiting for you, and he will love you very much."

She could say this because she knew the truth; and she was certain that if John knew of Peter's existence he would have been welcomed with open arms. What she hadn't fully been aware of was that her mind had been partly opened when Peter was born. Things dripped through.

After consoling Peter that someone else somewhere truly loved him, she had taken off her ring without knowing exactly why, placed it on a chain and clipped it around his neck. "You see this ring? It will always be your guide; no matter whatever happens. In some small way I will be with you forever. Do you understand?"

Young Peter had not understood what she meant by that at all, but his mother often said funny things, like "Science is like magic. You only have to look to see the wonder." It would be one of the few things he would remember about her. That and her tale about how she had ended up being thrown back in time, courtesy of the Weeping Angels. She had made him slap every single statue they had ever come across as a consequence.

His world was altered forever the night she died. They had finally run away, getting as far from Ray as they had thought possible, ending up on the Cumbrian coast near the Lake District. But Ray had hunted them down, had woven a web of lies to convince Donna's friends to relay information about their whereabouts, and had stormed back into their lives for the very last time. There had been the usual shouting as Donna had fought off Ray's attempts to tame her. This time around his accusations centred on that nice looking Jerry fellow who was staying in the boarding house next door.

Peter had blotted out most of what had happened next. There were eerie impressions of screams, blood and fear. Lots and lots of fear as he had stayed hidden where his mother had instructed him to. He only clearly remembered the kind policewoman who had taken his hand afterwards. It was through whispers that he found out his parents were taken away from him by the bite of a vampire, and his life became an eternal conveyor belt of foster homes full of people who continually saw him as weird and strange.

He grew to embrace being thought peculiar by people. It made them cautious and treat him with some sort of respect; they kept their distance, unable to hurt him if they stayed away. Remembering the variety acts he had loved as a small child, he started to learn magic to impress the latest foster family whenever he arrived at a new placement. Performing magic added to his illusion; the more people didn't understand how he did a trick the better he liked it. His cloak of indifference became a magician's cape.

When the chance had come to run away to a different country he had taken it. The further he was from England the safer he felt.

* * *

Peter was brought abruptly out of his reminiscing thoughts as he returned to his hotel after leaving Wester Drumlins. The place had haunted his dreams almost as long as he'd been lonely; easily thirty years or more. Was the Doctor really his father? Logic said it was possible, and he had to admit that there was more than a passing resemblance. But… really?! It seemed so fantastical.

He could still remember his young fantasies where his real dad would turn up to whatever home he was in at the time, having searched long and hard, and whisk him away in a flurry of loving hugs. Had he ever really grown out of that one? Part of him still yearned for it to happen, if he was totally honest with himself. The rest of him knew he was more likely to be the next victim of the vampire that had killed his mother. Fortunately alcohol usually took that little indulgence away.

As Peter stood outside the ex-manor house he was staying in, a strange sound of mechanical screeching hit his ears. Dumbstruck, Peter watched as an ancient wooden dark blue box appeared in front of him. The words 'Police Box' were prominently displayed on it. He had to admit that it was a pretty neat trick, and he readied himself to applaud; especially when the door squeaked open and the Doctor stood there. It hadn't been that many minutes since the Doctor and Martha had disappeared, saying they were going back into the house and he should get away from there. Surely he wasn't back already from his investigation?

The man that stepped out alone was the Doctor; that fact was true, but it wasn't quite the same Doctor that Peter had been expecting. In fact he almost crumpled to the ground, and Peter rushed forward to help him stand.

"Doctor? What happened to you?" Peter asked with great concern. The Doctor looked rough, as though he had suffered a great trauma.

The Doctor hugged him closely, and murmured, "I got it wrong! I'm sorry; so sorry. You are my son but not in the way I thought you were."

"Okay, you've completely lost me with that," Peter said, easing the Doctor to sit in a more comfortable position.

The Doctor tried to gather his rampant thoughts. "There was a metacrisis during which your mother bonded with some of my consciousness through my chopped off hand. A new person was created with only one human heart. You were the other half of the metacrisis; lying dormant until the temporal difference kick-started your development, aided and abetted by my actions." The Doctor gulped down some air desperately. "You are the missing heart and I didn't realise until it happened on board the TARDIS today. I had to come and find you; apologise for not being there for you when you were small."

Peter glanced at the Doctor's hand not fully comprehending what had happened. It was all too much to take in at once. "There was what?" he spluttered in confusion. "I'm a heart that went missing… How does a heart get lost like that? And another person. Are they related to me? Have I got a brother or sister? I really don't get this." Peter clutched his head in self-comfort; his mind filled with question after question. Then anger filled him, and he glared at the Doctor. "All of that and you want to say 'sorry'?! Does that even cover what has happened? You've not even turned up with Martha. What did you do with her?"

Calming himself down, the Doctor replied, "I left Martha with her family. She wanted to go home." Placing a hand on his chest, he told Peter, "I have two hearts, so your metacrisis twin has one heart and you have the other. The metacrisis backfired into Donna, creating you among other things; so technically he is your brother."

"I have a brother," Peter murmured as he stumbled to sit down. "And you have two hearts. What does that make you?"

"I'm a Time Lord. The last of my kind, from the planet of Gallifrey," the Doctor explained.

Peter prodded a finger into his own chest. "So I'm part alien?" he stated more than asked. "Mum had always sort of hinted, but I thought it was another fairy story, like the one about my real dad…"

"I'm very real," the Doctor said quietly. Reaching out a hand he helped Peter get up as he too stood. "Did you hear anything good about me?" He told himself that Donna would have been justified to slag him off given the way he had abandoned her.

"Mum said you erm… That you were waiting somewhere, that you would meet me one day after you've won lots of battles." Peter then wryly laughed and covered his mouth. "I never believed that bit; I mean, come on! Nobody but superheroes fight battles. You'll be telling me next that you exiled the Weeping Angels."

"Not quite," the Doctor admitted. "But they have been placed in a prison of their own making. They can't do any more harm."

Peter nodded in acceptance and then looked down at himself briefly. "I suppose that sorts out that part of my story. What are you going to do now? And will I ever see you again?"

Those words echoed through the Doctor's memory, pointing an accusing finger at him. "I was hoping for better than that. You can come with me if you like," he softly offered.

"You want me?" Peter asked in disbelief. This was far too close to his childhood fantasy, and he couldn't cope with it being true, even if it was for a split second.

The Doctor grinned broadly at him. "Yeah! I was hoping you'd come for at least one trip with me. But we can still rescue Donna on the way."

"You can?!" Peter stepped back in shock, as hope whizzed through his system. Hope that had died so dramatically earlier that day.

"Yes. I need to know what day she was taken from you, and I'll work it from there," the Doctor replied, smiling slowly as the thoughts of hope flickered across Peter's face. His son's face. The one he'd be able to keep.

"Give me five minutes to get my coat and vampire gear," Peter said decisively, and strode off towards his room.

It was with pride that the Doctor flung open the doors to the TARDIS and let Peter in; getting the usual shocked reaction. It never got old, that feeling. "What do you think of her?" he couldn't help asking.

"It's erm…" Peter was completely stunned. "How do you do it?"

"Everything is dimensionally different," the Doctor explained.

"Fantastic!" Peter wheezed, deeply impressed. "I'd kill to be able to get something like this into my act."

Feeling more than a little pleased with himself, the Doctor made his way to stand at the console. "Are you ready?" he asked gleefully. "Then let's go back the dignified way." Having said that, he hit the blue button with a flourish.

An unusual sense of belonging hit Peter as he clung onto the pilot seat; one that he very rarely allowed himself to feel. "Coming, Mum," he whispered and watched the TARDIS perform her magic in fascination.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning:** this contains swearing; quite a bit considering... or maybe not.

**A/N:** sorry this wasn't quite ready last night, but I was knackered when I finished this part.

* * *

**Part 5**

.

Peter was almost bursting with hope as he stepped out of the TARDIS once they had reached their destination. This was his moment to be a hero, to right the wrongs that had happened. Expecting to be able to at least stop Jerry getting his fangs on his mother; or ideally be able to beat the shit out of Ray first; he found himself in an entirely different room. The smell was quite distinct, and Peter instantly knew exactly where he was.

In blind fury, he whirled on the Doctor to demand, "What the fuck are you playing at?! We shouldn't be here of all places!" When the Doctor gazed at him dumbfounded, he added, "Don't you get it?! We're too fucking late again! This is where they brought her when she was dead!"

"Are you sure?" the Doctor sought to confirm, ignoring Peter's colourful outburst for now.

"Of course I'm bloody sure!" Peter ranted. He was almost beside himself.

"Then we are in the right place," the Doctor retorted smugly.

Peter's eyes widened in disbelief. "So how exactly are you going to rescue Mum from a fucking vampire bite? Do you have special anti-venom?" Sarcasm dripped from every vowel.

"I don't need to do anything like that. I'm sure she has worked out the answer for us," the Doctor answered as his eyes took in the whole room for the second time.

'Berk!' Peter thought as he returned his reluctant attention to remembering his surroundings. "I'm sure her body was laid in here. I remember this room quite vividly. They had put her in this horrible dress with a high collar because her neck had been ripped out."

The Doctor gasped. "They allowed a small child to see that?"

"I snuck in," Peter explained. "Nobody thinks to watch you if they expect you to be sobbing in bed somewhere. But I ran away from the first foster mother to get here. I know it sounds stupid, but Mum had promised she would be with me forever, which she is in a way." Peter then reverently placed a hand on the now empty coffin, and started when he noticed the handbag sitting still within the silk. In answer, he touched his hand on his jacket over where the inside pocket is.

"What did you take from there?" the Doctor suddenly asked.

This made him feel instantly guilty, so Peter stammered out, "Nothing! Nothing really."

Using a more gentle voice, the Doctor asked, "Do you want to show me?"

Despite shaking his head, Peter opened his jacket and drew out something small from his inside pocket and handed it over.

The Doctor was stunned by the item. He had completely forgotten about the photo being taken to provide some form of identity when he had applied for a temporary job at a local factory. They'd messed about with a borrowed camera, and she had caught him in a candid shot. To think she had kept it…

He was still gazing at the photo as he quietly asked, "Why did you take this?"

Peter deliberately shrugged. "Mum always had it in her bag somewhere. She would only say it was a good friend called John, and hold it when she cried. I wasn't allowed to go near her when she did; i_he_/i wouldn't let me." A faint smile appeared when he said, "You'll think this daft but when I was really small I thought my mum had been friends with Jesus. Can you believe that? But that soon went. After that I hoped it was my dad, my real dad; or that he could tell me who he was."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor sadly muttered.

"I suppose you are," Peter agreed. "I would run away and walk the streets of London with that photo, looking for him." He gazed at the Doctor accusingly. "At least I know now why I never found you. Anyway… that's all in the past. We're here to save Mum. "

Yes, Peter had many anger issues; the Doctor could see that, but he was proud of his ability to try and push that aside for the moment. They had a disappearance to deal with before everything could be settled between them. Changing the subject, the Doctor pointed to the other body in the room. "Strange. Somebody has taken her remains but left your father."

"He was not my father! Do you hear me? He lived in the same house as us but I want no claim on that bastard," Peter spat out bitterly. "I fucking hope he rots in hell."

"Peter Vincent, you don't mean that…" Except the Doctor was convinced he did.

Peter panted as he tried to hold in his anger. "You don't understand. Mum saved me at times, but not at first. When I think what he did, and I was only…"

The Doctor laid a consoling hand on his shoulder. "It's okay now. You can grieve."

That broke some sort of a dam, and they spent the next few minutes clinging together. Then the Doctor noticed something that looked familiar.

"Peter, where did you get that ring?" he asked, eyeing his hand.

"What this one?" He held up the hand and then the little finger that the ring sat on. "What about it?"

The Doctor drew out his glasses and took a closer look. "That was Donna's. I know that ring. I bought it for her after we went to the Library, and presented it to her when we…" It was his turn to choke up.

It was Peter's turn to console his father with a gentle touch. "Mum gave it to me when she first told me about you. I used to wear this on a chain around my neck but now it stays on my finger. She said it would always guide me to… Oh for fuck's sake! That's why it's been twitching on my finger. It's tuned into her, isn't it?"

"Yes," the Doctor readily agreed. "I wanted her to have a way to always get back to the TARDIS, and vice versa. Aren't you going to ask me your question?"

Peter squared his shoulders. "Okay; here goes. At this precise moment my younger self is hiding outside the door, watching us from out there. Are you going to go and rescue him from this hell? Stop the god-awful life I had until I ran to America in my late teens, or does it only count when it's too late?"

The Doctor stared blankly back. "Peter, there are rules…"

"I thought so." Peter stood still and closed his eyes, holding back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Of course he agreed that his mother was worth saving, but part of him wanted to rage at the injustice that dismissed his own suffering. If the Doctor could do that they would have gone back to the day when his mother had first ended up in hospital. He i_really_/i didn't want to think about that day. Instead he focused on the fact that he wanted his mother back, and with renewed determination he opened his eyes and announced, "Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

Stepping away from the Doctor, Peter raised his hand and held it in front of him, closing his eyes as he did so. After some moments, he declared, "She's that way."

Not evening stopping to see if he was being followed, and certainly not looking back to see if his younger self was taking any notice, he strode out into the darkness outside the funeral parlour that made up part of a row of small shops. His hand flinched, giving him a clear indication where to go to next. There was even the slight whiff of her perfume to confirm he was heading in the right direction. Allowing himself a small break in case things turned out for the worse, Peter breathed the scent in, thinking of the small fancy bottle that had once sat on his mother's dressing table. Oh my! He hadn't even realised that he could remember such things.

Feeling the presence of his father grow nearer, he stopped reminiscing and started walking again. His footsteps took him along the road leading away from the small parade of shops and abruptly into the play area and up into a wooded piece of land that seemed to be part of the common. Further in the ring lead him, and he had just wondered if he was being led on a massive goose chase when he smelt something different. It was similar to his mother, but there where different base notes to it; and nothing like the blood he had expected to smell.

Something in the darkness seemed to shimmer for a fraction of a second, as though a torch were being flashed to guide him through the trees. Within the light he could have sworn he had seen the outline of her body, but he had no proof beyond the willingness of his imagination to see such a thing.

"Mum?" he risked whispering.

"I think she's over there," the Doctor whispered to his side, and started to scramble through the undergrowth to where Peter had seen the light.

Keeping to hushed tones, Peter saw the Doctor stop moving by some sort of object on the ground and asked, "Is it her?"

In answer, the Doctor drew out his sonic screwdriver and scanned whatever it was. "Yes, definitely her." He then bent low to touch her.

Peter wanted to shout out, to demand that he leave her alone! Fighting back anger, he raced forward as quickly as he could to get to her side. Nobody deserved the right to touch her before him. Every protective nerve in his body rose up and threatened to fight off anybody that would get in his way. "Leave her," he finally managed to restrict himself into saying. He was well aware, after all, that the Doctor had provided the means for him to be there.

The Doctor seemed stunned by this. "I was just checking; and she's alive."

Moonlight lit up their corner of the wood at that moment, making Donna's face easy to see in the gloom. "Mum," Peter gasped out and sank to his knees to wrap his arms around her. "Oh Mum!" Her soft, warm body felt so alive beneath his grasp, and he unashamedly wept as he felt her take small breaths.

He stopped when the Doctor placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get Donna back into the TARDIS.

Peter lifted his head to regard him in the half-light. "How are going to get her all that way? We'll need to go a different route to avoid me."

"You're forgetting, Peter. You have the answer to that," the Doctor replied with an obvious grin in his voice.

"I do?" Peter queried before his brain kicked in. "The ring! How does it work? I'm a bit new to this trick."

The Doctor took hold of Peter's hand and waved the sonic screwdriver over it. "That should do it," he declared.

Two seconds later a strange mechanical whine filled the wood, echoing off the trees, and then the glorious sight of the TARDIS appearing near them occurred.

Working together, they each took an end of Donna and picked her up off the woodland floor and out of the leaf litter. A few creatures made a sound of protest as they made their way towards the TARDIS. Peter had only just started to wonder how they would get inside when the doors swung open to welcome them in.

"This way," the Doctor insisted, and led them into a very medical looking room.

With great care they placed Donna onto a bed, and then they both looked anxiously at each other. "Well, Doctor? Are you going to tell me what happened, because the last time I saw my mum she was as dead as a door nail," Peter immediately asked.

"Ah, you see it's a bit tricky to explain," the Doctor said, hastily rubbing the back of his neck in self-comfort. "The thing is, Donna was dead. Killed by that vicious bite and all that."

The Donna lying in front of them clearly wasn't dead, so Peter glowered at him. "And? Obviously something caused her not to be. Was it a misdiagnosis or some other thing even weirder than that?"

"I'm not sure if you'll believe this, but when Donna suffered the metacrisis backlash she stopped being completely human and gained some of me," the Doctor hesitantly explained. "That means she was able to cheat death, in a way." Still seeing confusion on Peter's face, the Doctor then added, "Your mother has just regenerated."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I ran out of steam with this, but here is the ending.

* * *

**Part 6**

.

"Re-what?!" Peter spluttered. "What the fucking hell is that?"

"Regenerated," the Doctor repeated. "It's our way of living longer. Every cell is renewed, leaving only the memories. The face can change and the personality along with it."

"Like an upgrade," Peter tried to reason. "So you've done this yourself?"

The Doctor nodded. "Nine times now. Each time is painful and disorientating."

"Why didn't Mum change in looks?" Peter wondered; quite logically in the circumstances.

"I'm not sure," the Doctor admitted, "probably due to her being only part Gallifreyan."

"Does this mean that I will regenerate?" Peter asked, keeping his eyes on Donna.

"Oh, more than likely. If Donna can do it then you should be able to easily," the Doctor answered. "You might actually change appearance."

"Why would I want to change this?" Peter then asked as he stroked his chin. "I'm very fond of these looks."

The Doctor chuckled. "I felt that way too. That's why you exist… well, sort of."

"You needn't have shagged Mum," Peter put in.

An immediate blush appeared on the Doctor's cheeks. "Yes… well… I erm…"

Peter grinned knowingly. "Did you actually fancy Mum? I mean, seriously? I thought you were only acting for the sake of the timelines."

"I'll have you know that your mother is a very desirable woman!" the Doctor defended both himself and Donna. "We were in love, but it wasn't meant to be; so I did the right thing."

"By running off without a word," Peter said calmly and sarcastically. "I'm sure we'll be eternally grateful."

The Doctor drew in a sharp breath. "Peter, it wasn't like that. I had to think of the bigger picture, and I knew that I would meet your mother later as a friend. I couldn't ruin that with talk about how I felt."

Peter didn't really know what he felt, as he stood taking in his father's sad expression, beyond bitterness. "Then why touch her in the first place?"

The Doctor looked even more defeated. "I've often asked myself that same question. What was I to do? I had wanted her so much before that day. She was so beautiful, we were having fun together, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world until Martha came home."

"Don't tell me anymore," Peter insisted, holding up his hand. He went to say another thing but a small movement caught their attention.

The Doctor was ahead of Peter by her side as Donna flickered open her eyes and saw him for the first time in what felt like decades but was six years. "Spaceman? Do you remember me?" she asked hoarsely. "What happened?"

Her eyes then travelled to the man so awestruck to her other side when he gasped in a sob. "It can't be… Is it? Earthman, is it you?"

"It's me, Mum," Peter said tearfully, instantly wondering who Earthman is.

"Peter? My Peter? My baby boy, all grown up?" she cautiously asked as she tried to reach out to him.

He caught her hand and hugged it to his cheek. "Yeah," he answered, unable to say more.

"You're so handsome," she stated, and started to tremble with emotion. With effort, she brought up her other hand to explore his features, tracing his cheeks, lips and jaw. "My Bunnikins," she sighed as tears overwhelmed her. "I thought he would kill you."

"No, I'm still here," he replied, smiling reassuringly through his tears.

"I bet you could do with a decent cup of tea," the Doctor remarked.

"Would I?" she readily agreed. "I'm spitting feathers here."

The Doctor bustled away to the kitchen to keep up a necessary supply of tea; it always felt good to have plenty of tasks to carry out, and it distracted him from the emotion of the reunion scene he had just witnessed.

As he carried back their mugs of tea to the medbay he resolved to help Peter mas much as it was within his power to. That meant starting with a bedroom especially for him, and then supplying the process for Peter to heal wounds that were just as fatal as Donna's had been. If he could sneak away, he considered a visit to Ray Vincent before he closed the book on this chapter of their lives. The Doctor's thoughts ran along very dark lines as he ran through his head all the clues Peter had been dropping, and he didn't like the conclusion one bit. But first Donna needed tea, and lots of it, to fight off her regeneration sickness.

* * *

A relatively short while later, the Doctor laid his hand on the head of Peter as he slept, leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Sleep well, my son," he said to the sleeping form, raised his hand to touch the wall above him, causing the lights to dim right down and a chill filled the air. Satisfied that things were as they should be, he left the room.

Next was a slight detour.

The Doctor waited until Peter was convincingly out of the way before heading to where Donna sat comfortably with a cup of refreshing tea.

"Donna, I need to explain," he immediately tried to say as he sat himself down by her chair.

She held up her hand to halt his words. "No need to, Spaceman. You have nothing to apologise for, I know that now."

His sad expression said it all. "But about what happened back in 1969…"

There was a wave of her hand to dismiss it. "It was yet another one night stand in my life. I should have known better."

"The photo, Donna!" he protested. "Peter showed me the photo you carried about with you."

"Ah," she said guilty. "I'm sorry you had to learn about it. I promise all that has finished." There was a snort of derision. "I won't need to now that Ray is dead. Who'd have thought I'd be grateful for the actions of a vampire?" she wondered, not looking at him directly. It was only then that she fully contemplated him. "I assume this is it, the time you drop me off for good and wend your way to the next adventure. I don't suppose you want to help explain who Peter is for me…? No, of course you don't."

He struck out a hand to stop her from getting up and walking away from him. "Donna, are you going to let me get a word in?"

"I know the word won't be 'goodbye' but it'll mean the same any way; so let's not drag this out any longer than we need to," she answered.

"You're being very cold about this," he retorted.

She sighed. "I'm being a realist. I've had a long time to get over you in one form or another, and although I've just ruined things by becoming even more like you I know when to cut my losses." There was a hint of a smile when she added, "I got what I wanted: my son to be safe. I'm not risking anything further than that."

"And what about me, Donna? What about what I want?" he softly asked.

"You? I'm sorry but I didn't know I had to provide more than I have. I can't give you back Rose, and you'll have to excuse me for feeling bitter that you gave away D2 to her; only I technically haven't had long to process it," she remarked. There was probably something else she should be aware of but her mind was still feeling decidedly woozy after the effort of regenerating.

A choked sob wrenched its way out of his throat. "I thought you understood."

"No I don't. In fact I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me why you banged on and on about loving someone, she rips apart several universes to get back to you and then you dump her with my D2," she raged at him. "Although you had the cheek to do all that after knocking me up; so much for deep everlasting love," she added scornfully. "It sounds more like you were in love with the idea of love."

"I didn't knock you up, as you so charmingly put it," he commented.

"Oh yeah? Well it wasn't a special gift from Father Christmas before you try to deny it again!" She was absolutely fuming now. How dare he! "Or are you playing semantics?"

He had to think about that one. "Semantics does come into it; but you were already pregnant when I… when we er…."

She placed her hand over her eyes in exasperation. "Oh dear! He can't even say the words, it's that abhorrent to him," she said to nobody in particular. Her hand was lowered so that she could glare at him openly. "Well?"

The Doctor nervously gulped. "The metacrisis also backfired by creating a second duplicate with the missing heart. You were pregnant but dormant until the Weeping Angels and I helped things along."

"How did you help exactly?" she wanted to know.

"I er… provided some growing medium, that aided development," he admitted. "And not in the way I thought I was supposed to."

"That must have been a shock for you," she agreed. "What would have happened if you hadn't?"

"The baby would have died soon after birth," he hesitantly answered, and took her hands when she gasped in shock. "It was an essential part of development when my species actually mated."

Her mouth tried to form the question, "So… Peter is…?"

"Almost completely Gallifreyan," he supplied; rather proudly, in her opinion.

The Doctor then glanced hesitantly towards the doorway. "What's up, Doctor?" Donna immediately asked.

"I found something outside the door earlier," he said as he got up and made his way over the medbay door. "Judging by what I saw earlier, I think you might be more than a little interested to see." Opening it, he bent down and picked something small up; it looked remarkably like…

"Peter!" Donna gasped out in shock.

The boy within the Doctor's arms stirred from his deep sleep, rubbed his eyes, and peered at the Doctor inquisitively. "Am I dead?" he asked the Doctor.

"Erm… sort of," the Doctor answered vaguely.

"Is this heaven," young Peter then asked.

"I hope so," the Doctor said with a smile. "I tend to think of it like that."

"Are you my dad?" Peter then risked asking.

The Doctor's smile grew broader. "Yes, Peter. And I know you have the photo of me to prove it."

There was an equally dazzling smile in reply. "If this is heaven, where's my m-," Peter started to finally ask as his eyes began to explore the room. "Mum!" he squealed in delight, and bounced with joy. "You found my mum!"

Without any hesitation, the Doctor took him straight to Donna's waiting arms. "Oh my Bunnikins," she crooned as she kissed his little head and felt him cling to her as he sat on her lap. "What about older Peter?" she anxiously asked the Doctor.

"He's in stasis, sleeping until the reality he likes occurs," he replied. "Don't worry, love, he wanted this; he wanted me to rescue him." The Doctor then affectionately wiped away some of her tears. "Typical Donna Noble! Another whole parallel universe created, just for you," he teased. "One that I'm beginning to like quite a lot."

She accepted his brief kiss. "Thank you, Spaceman."

The Doctor knew it would take her time to completely trust him again, but he didn't mind. This was a fresh start for them all, and he'd had a heck of a lot worse. Here was a start where he could look forward to the next chapter; and he wanted to savour every moment.

**The End**


End file.
